


snow angel

by Glitter_Lisp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Lucifer's Cage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6827269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Lisp/pseuds/Glitter_Lisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer froze something down deep inside of Sam, something that starts to melt once he remembers that it's frozen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	snow angel

Lucifer froze something down deep inside of Sam, something that starts to melt once he remembers that it’s frozen. “It’s so hot, Dean,” he says, and Dean looks at the thermostat, down to fifty-two degrees.

  
“Yeah, I know, Sammy.”

  
A few days later, there’s Sam, dripping and pale after an ice cold shower, panting as he asks Dean if they can please, please turn the air down. Dean tugs his jacket tighter around himself and says it doesn’t get any colder, Sammy, he’s sorry.

  
That night, he loads his gasping, burning little brother into the Impala and they drive as far North as they can on one tank of gas, the fans blasting and the windows rolled down. Dean shivers and clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Sam cries quietly next to him until he gags. He’s running a fever again.

  
“It’s never going to be cold enough,” Sam realizes, when he and Dean have broken into some fast food restaurant after hours to stand in the freezer. Sam’s breath clouds in front of him and his bare feet are turning purple. “The world is burning, Dean. Lucifer wants me back.“

  
"He c-can’t have you,” Dean says. It’s been twenty minutes in here, and he’s freezing, but he’s going to be with Sam every step of the way.

  
“I think I want to go back too,” Sam whispers. “It’s so cold in the Cage, not cold like here, cold all the way through you. They were snow angels, and the frost made patterns on my bones.”

  
There are half-frozen tears on his eyelashes and his voice cracks. “Dean, I’m _burning_.”


End file.
